


It Hurts

by NoticedKohai



Series: Really Confused Chocobros [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, I should really be working but here we are, M/M, Mushy Shit, Panic Attacks, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Prompto, Trans!Prompto, dirty talking, ignis likes tits and you can't tell me otherwise, mestruation, prompto is throwing a fit, self-indulgent crap, way too much apologizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-04 16:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11559258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoticedKohai/pseuds/NoticedKohai
Summary: "For a surprisingly long minute, Prompto couldn’t even figure out what he was looking at. It had been so long since it had last happened, that he had genuinely come to believe that the testosterone in his system was preventing it from ever happening again. But, there it was, in all of its bad omen glory: The start of his menstrual cycle." Prompto has a meltdown, Ignis has to go shopping for hygiene products, and things kind of just go to hell after that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trans, I'm on my period, and I'm grumpy and hangry so let's write a story based on when I broke up with a super sweet boyfriend because I'm an insecure piece of shit. This is kind of trash but I mean I wrote 5k words, I might as well post 'em.  
> No proofreading. We all go down together.

It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_.

Prompto curled into a tighter ball than the one he was already curled into, squeezing his arms tight around his tiny body. The blankets he had hauled from his linen closet and dumped rather unceremoniously onto his sofa were pulled up past his ears, so that only his eyes and a messy tuft of hair were visible. Should anyone have laid eyes on him, they would have probably thought that they were looking at a baby chocobo butt, or something.

If only. Man, what Prompto wouldn’t do to be a cute little bird, rather than… Whatever the hell he was.

His mood soured even further at the thought. His eyes returned to the television set that had been occupying his attention for the last gazillion hours. This fucking sucked.

It started three nights ago, when Prompto was looking down into the toilet bowl while he wiped and commending himself on being so hydrated. Like, damn, look at that water. It’s barely even yellow. He was so damn hydrated – Ignis’d be proud. Then, a painfully familiar splotch of pink showed up on the paper.

For a surprisingly long minute, Prompto couldn’t even figure out what he was looking at. It had been so long since it had last happened, that he had genuinely come to believe that the testosterone in his system was preventing it from ever happening again. But, there it was, in all of its bad omen glory: The start of his menstrual cycle.

He had expected it would be just some light spotting, like the first couple of years of being on T.

He was dead fucking _wrong_.

Three days in, and Prompto was one fraying nerve away from a complete meltdown. Not a fit of tears like the day before, when he realized that this would be a full cycle, but a hair-pulling, lip-chewing, skin-tearing meltdown like the kind he got when he was a teenager and his anxiety went unchecked. It was stupid, really. A full grown man losing his marbles because he was menstruating like every other person with a vagina did. It was just… The _implications_. The reminder that there was something wrong with him, like his body was one mega birth defect. And it was painful as hell, like a fucking vice squeezing down on his uterus.

A small, pained groan didn’t quite make it out Prompto’s throat, just kind of getting stuck behind his tongue. Christ on a bike – why did this have to _hurt_?! Like, damn, Prompto understood that he was basically shedding his insides, but it didn’t hurt to shed hair or let an old scab fall off of healed skin. So why did periods feel like his vagina was being folded inside out?

Also, for some reason, it made him _super_ constipated and that was just _so_ uncool.

Anyways, the whole stupid ordeal started on Friday, which meant that he had every excuse to lounge around (read: sulk all day) in his pajamas without leaving his apartment – or the couch, really. But… Today was Monday. And Mondays always started with training, because Gladiolus was a psychopath that woke them all up at the buttcrack of dawn to run ten miles and spar on the mat. So, when he heard a heavy knock on the door that probably sounded normal to Gladiolus but sounded like his door was about to be broken down to literally any normal human being, Prompto shouldn’t have been surprised.

He snuggled down into his cocoon and muted the TV. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d go away.

Unfortunately for Prompto, he wasn’t lucky.

“Prompto, open up.”

He held his breath.

“Prompto, I _heard_ the TV.”

He screwed his eyes shut.

“Are you _still_ in bed? It’s three in the afternoon – what is this, your Noctis impersonation?”

Prompto actually kind of laughed at that, which made a big ole gloop of blood and tissue slip out of his body, which made him immediately stop to cringe at his body’s natural defenses towards anything pleasant.

“Prompto, are you alright? Have you fallen ill?”

The introduction of Ignis’s soft, velvety voice sent a pang of guilt through Prompto’s chest. Of _course_ Ignis would be concerned – that tended to happen when you ignored every call and text from your best friends, then skipped out on training for the first time since he was granted the privilege of being a member of the Crownsguard. If Prompto was known for anything other than photography and very selective ornithology, it was his dedication towards his training and always replying to messages. As far as they were concerned, Prompto might as well have died or been nabbed by bodysnatchers.

Man, he was such a moron.

“Wait – when did you get a key to his apartment?”

Ignis didn’t respond verbally or, if he did, it was low enough for it to not reach Prompto’s ears. The door to his studio apartment opened, and Ignis was at his side so quickly that Prompto briefly wondered if he had somehow learned to mimic Noctis’s warping.

Cool fingers brushed against his forehead as Ignis pressed the back of his palm to what parts of Prompto’s face he could.

“You do feel warm,” he murmured, seemingly more to himself than anyone else in the room, “But I imagine that the absurd amount of blankets you have wrapped yourself in could have contributed to that.”

“Seriously, dude, it’s April. Why do you need so many damn blankets when it’s sixty-five outside?”

Gladiolus’s voice was teasing, but the mirth didn’t reach his dark eyes; he was getting worried.

“Are you feeling feverish? Why did you fail to call me? You should be seeing a physician, not lying about –“

“I feel…” Prompto took hold of Ignis’s wrist, failing to meet his concerned gaze, “I feel gross.”

It was their secret code. Prompto could never bring himself to say the word, and Ignis knew that he couldn’t bear to hear it. There were too many negative connotations in the word _dysphoric_ \- too many reminders that he was by definition suffering from a mental illness, too many reminders of the nights he went to bed frustrated and bitter.

Ignis’s expression didn’t immediately change into something else. He was still very much concerned for his partner, but for different reasons. At least the wrinkle in his forehead smoothed out a bit.

Too ashamed for any conversation, Prompto disappeared entirely under the blankets as he head Ignis rise to a standing position and walk over to where Gladiolus was still leaning against the wall. Ignis was whispering, likely for Prompto’s sake, but Prompto’s apartment was like four hundred square feet so it wasn’t like it made much of a difference.

“So he is sick?”

“No, I can assure you that Prompto will be quite alright. I do, however, believe it would be best if we were left alone.”

 “You’re sure? You want me to get you guys anything?”

“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be necessary. I only need you to let his Highness know that I will be unable to prepare him dinner, this evening -sans any specific details regarding Prompto, of course.”

A beat. Prompto assumed Gladiolus was hesitating, like he normally did when he was in big brother mode.

“Alright, but you better call me if something happens.”

Six, he loved his friends so much.

A few more words of assurance from Ignis, and some bear-like grunts from Gladio, and the door clicked shut mere moments before Ignis had returned to kneel by the sofa. He didn’t say anything at first, just resting his hand over where he thought Prompto’s head may be underneath all of those blankets. There was a greenhouse effect happening in his cocoon that was making his current position too warm for comfort, but Prompto couldn’t bring himself to emerge from the hidey hole when his nether regions felt disgusting and his unbound chest ached from all of the hormones and the little tummy pudge he still had from his fat kid days felt particularly pudgy.

Ignis didn’t try to coax him out from the blankets, either, or dip his hands under the layers in search of him. That was one of the thousands of amazing things that Prompto loved about him – he was patient, and he wholly respected every single person he came in contact with.

“Did something happen?”

A half-hearted chuckle was mostly muted by the comforters Prompto had draped over his head.

“Nature, I guess,” he muttered.

Another really great thing about Ignis was that he was quick as a whip; he didn’t need much information before drawing to an accurate conclusion. He heard him sigh, and felt him lean his head onto the mound of blankets.

“I’m sorry, Iggy…”

“Apologize for worrying us,” was Ignis’s calm response, “Not for feeling betrayed by your body.”

“I really messed up, this time, didn’t I?”

“I would not say you inflicted any genuine harm, but it took quite a bit of negotiating to convince Noctis to hold off on sending the entire Lucis army out in search of you.”

An amused smile played in Ignis’s voice, and a quiet giggle bubbled past Prompto’s lips. He could see it now: Noctis, all stuffy-looking from keeping his emotions pent up, with an exasperated Ignis trying to gently wrestle his phone out of his grip while talking to him like he was about to declare war on Tenebrae over a disagreement with Luna over vegetables.

“And now you’re not even gonna make him dinner.”

“That is because I would much rather spend the evening with my little birb.”

Prompto should’ve never told him that that word meant. All he was doing was joking about memes with Noctis, the word came up, and Ignis had since then been calling him his little birb. It was so cute that it was disgusting, and it made Prompto’s tummy flutter every time he said it, and it made it very difficult for his petty ass to cling to the negative feelings he was using as a shield to hide from the world.

“Kweh.”

Ignis laughed, a beautiful, melodic sound, and took the green light to pull some of the blankets back. The sudden reintroduction to sunlight burned his eyes, but the welcomed rush of cool air on his cheeks and the familiar lips kissing his nose more than made up for it.

“Is it just nature?” he asked, fingertips tracing Prompto’s jaw with the same level of care one would show for exceedingly fine crystal.

Prompto nodded, keeping his gaze averted, “Yeah. It started a few days ago.”

Ignis shifted so that he was sitting on the side of his folded legs, “Have you everything you need?”

Another code message, because Prompto would let Ravus Nox Fleuret finger-bang him with his magitek prosthetic arm before he admitted to wearing the equivalent to lady diapers.

Prompto sighed and buried his face into the pillow he was using.

“Nnh, uh rnn oft dhis mrnnn.”

“Prompto, I implore you to not buy into the misconceptions regarding the blind and their hearing. My hearing is no sharper than it was when I could see you and Noct sneaking cookies when you thought my back was turned.”

Heat rushed to Prompto’s cheeks, and he sputtered for a good long moment before wrenching his face from the pillow to gape at his partner.

“Wait, you knew?!”

Ignis’s smile was as warm and kind as it ever was, and he lifted one hand to tweak his nose.

“Why do you think I always left them in that particular location?” he asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “That way you two always knew where they were. Besides, what other reason could there have possibly been for me to have to replenish the jar’s stock so frequently?”

Prompto looked and felt positively scandalized, to which Ignis only laughed and shook his head.

“So, again, I ask: do you have everything you need, or would you like me to take a trip to the store for you? From what I recall, this is not exactly a regular occurrence for you.”

No, it really wasn’t. What few bouts of spotting he endured over the years usually cleared up within a day or two, but this was the kind of cycle he had to deal with when he was still pre-T. All of his liners were soaked through within an hour or so, and he had run out of everything he had this morning; he just opted to stuff his underwear with toilet paper.

Of course, when he told Ignis of this, his reaction was less than favorable.

“ _Honestly_ , Prom, you are one of the most ridiculous beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

That was confusingly endearing, in its own way.

“I will go to the store on your behalf before you wind up with a urinary tract infection from a wad of tissue being lodged in your urethra. Call me should you require anything else.”

 A swift kiss to the tip of his nose, again, and Ignis was making his way to the door.

 

* * *

 

Ignis… _May_ have bitten off a tad more than he could chew.

He held a gloved finger to his lips as his mind worked to find a way out of his predicament. When he had offered to purchase hygiene products for Prompto, he didn’t take into consideration that he had no experience in the matter.

Sure, he understood that menstrual cycles were their worst in the middle of the week, then petered off towards the end, but there were so many options available to him, and he had only the faintest clue of what Prompto preferred: the brand. Prompto used the same brand for as long as he had known him. It was actually how Ignis had accidentally stumbled upon his secret: while searching for a roll of toilet paper to replace the one he had used up, he found a stash of hygiene products under the sink. He felt truly awful when Prompto felt compelled to out himself when Ignis asked why there was no spare roll beneath the sink, but it provided him with some handy knowledge for the future.

Also, it was a little difficult to find what you needed when you could only make out strongly contrasting lights and shadows, at best.

Which was how he found himself approaching a feminine-sounding voice at the customer help desk.

“Good afternoon! Is there anything I can help you with?”

When Ignis relayed his current predicament, the clerk chirped that she was happy to help him out and he was faintly reminded of Iris.

“So, you don’t know how… his? Flow gets?”

There was an obviously confused lilt to her question, but she sounded more curious than combative, like too many of Insomnia’s residents.

“I am afraid not.”

“Do you know if he worries about odor?”

What in the _Astrals_? That was something that people had to worry about?

“Not to the extent of my knowledge…”

Ignis did not enjoy being underprepared in any situation, especially not _this_ underprepared. He would call Prompto to ask, but worried about embarrassing him. He had called Noctis to ask if he knew anything, but only received an embarrassed “Hell no!” as a response. And, well, Gladio only knew enough to understand why Prompto had to inject himself in the thigh every two weeks.

“Okay, well, why don’t we do this?”

He heard the clerk shuffle forward, and there was a rustling of plastic.

“When all else fails, it’s best to go overboard than be underprepared, right? So let’s pick out some overnight maxi pads, and some thin overnight pads for the last couple days. They’re nice and long on both ends so there’re less chances of leaking. Does he get bad cramping?”

Aha! Something Ignis knew!

“He complains about them rather fervently,” he said a little _too_ proudly.

Thankfully, the clerk either didn’t pick up on it or chose to ignore it as she carefully passed the two packages to him.

“If he doesn’t have some already, I really suggest picking up this stuff called Midol,” she said cheerily, a slim hand touching the edge of his elbow, “It helps with pain and a lot of PMS symptoms.”

What on Earth?

“Like ibuprofen?”

“Kinda! But I feel like ibuprofen only really helps with the backaches. Midol does a way better job with dealing with all of the pain, like muscle cramps and headaches, and helps with bloating and tiredness, too.”

When Ignis discovered Prompto’s gender dysphoria, he immediately went home and researched everything he possibly could on what it meant to be a transgender man. He felt he was rather informed on the matter and left it at that, but he had clearly missed several marks by passing up on the opportunity to learn what problems he could face by experiencing that time of the month.

To be fair, he hadn’t much of a reason to know much beyond the basics. His attention was primarily focused on Noctis for the majority of his life and, by the time he and Prompto had begun to grow closer, Prompto was far enough along in his transition to where it was never an issue.

It didn’t make him feel any better about the issue, though. He let the clerk talk him into whatever over the counter drug she recommended, hoping that it was a genuine recommendation and not a way for her to boost her store’s sales, and made a mental note to do more research on Moogle when he had the chance.

 

* * *

 

Things were not going well for Prompto while his partner was at the store.

Everything started out fine – or, as fine as they could be – thanks to Iggy pulling him out of his shitty headspace without Prompto even realizing it. He had been actually enjoying the Futurama reruns he was watching, rather than just staring at the screen, and he was even thinking about getting off of the couch to forage through his cupboards for food.

Then that fucking commercial played.

Look, Prompto isn’t exactly the type to wallow in insecurities. Sure, growing up as the fat kid left its emotional, and physical, scars, but it wasn’t like he was someone that got triggered over little shit. But there was just something about that stupid commercial that hit every single one of his nerves in the span of thirty seconds.

It was a surprisingly raunchy advertisement for cologne, and it followed the similar formula for luxury fragrance commercials with a black and white filter, ripped guys flexing their abs and rolling their hips, and some voice with a super heavy accent saying the brand name. But there was something about seeing one model crawl over the other in a jockstrap, all broad shoulders and rippling muscles, and a bulge grazing over the guy still wearing jeans… No, it wasn’t even “something.” Prompto knew what it was – he was upset because that wasn’t something he could ever have.

He had been taking his testosterone injections every two weeks since he was thirteen but, no matter how hard he worked, that kind of frame was something he knew he could never have. There would always be a curve to his hips. His body would always remain lean and trim, lacking any real muscle mass even after working with Gladio to bulk up (which just resulted in him getting cut, or gaining fat). His skin would never be even and smooth like his, too littered with white and mauve scars that striped all of the soft parts of his body. Most of all, he’d never have a proper working dick to rub against Ignis like that – to fuck him with.

And that’s what hurt the worst. Knowing he’d never be able to give his partner the kind of sex he wanted. Prompto knew that he was hurting Ignis with all of his baggage, and he couldn’t even make it up to him by giving him what he needed.

There was an easy solution. It was a solution that made him panic, but… Prompto knew it was for the best. Ignis could do so, so much better than him.

So, when Ignis reentered his apartment with three grocery bags stuffed with the hygiene products and what would inevitably become their dinner, his ears were met with sobs stifled by Prompto’s pillow.

“Prompto!?”

Prompto froze, sinking his teeth into his already raw and nearly bloody lip. He sniffled.

Ignis quickly crossed the distance between them, grocery bags forgotten by the door, to crouch next to the sofa. He sank the fingers of one hand in Prompto’s mussed hair, the other coming to rest on his shoulder.

“What is wrong? Is it the pain – are your cramps so terrible?”

“Nothing,” Prompto’s voice sounded thick and miserable in his own ears, “Got a runny nose, that’s all.”

Truth be told, Ignis’s hurt expression was more painful than the intrusive thoughts that whittled away at his resolve. There was a disappointment that etched itself into every one of Ignis’s features, put there by Prompto’s piss-poor attempt at fibbing in some vain attempt at sparing Ignis from his bullshit.

“Is this where we are, now?” Ignis asked, quiet voice pained, “Have we become the kind of couple that lies to one another?”

They had been together long enough that Prompto knew that he was more hurt by the implication that he didn’t trust him, rather than the fact that he lied. He tried to sigh, but a fresh sob tumbled past his lips and ruined it.

“I-I’m sorry, Iggy…”

The hand on his shoulder slipped to his cheek, where he wiped away a new tear track.

“Shush, my love, I have already forgiven you.”

Ignis, bless his heart, thought he was still stuck on skipping out on training to sulk, and it catapulted Prompto into hysterics. Of course he didn’t understand what he was talking about – Ignis was _normal_. He was beautiful and perfect and talented and never had to worry about not fitting in or being unattractive or lacking in anything.

To say that Ignis had been taken by surprise would be a gross understatement, but his reaction times were the best in their foursome so he was quick to recover. All Prompto could manage was to sob into Ignis’s shirt, wrapping his arms around himself as if it would put a stop to his incessant trembling, but Ignis crowded all of his personal space by shuffling closer and cradling his head to his chest.

Being wrapped up by Ignis’s body should have been comforting. He always smelled like sunshine on fresh linen, and other beautiful poetic things, and that smell wafting over him was better than any one of those fancy candles Ignis bought for the bedroom.  Being cornered between Ignis’s body and the couch should have provided the kind of tight space that made him feel safe and protected.

But it didn’t. Prompto continued to let himself succumb to every horrible thought and emotion that had been plaguing him for the last few days on his own.

The whole time, Ignis whispered tender words of comfort in his ear, fingers combing through his hair and untangling any knots he encountered, until Prompto could finally speak through his hysterics.

“I think we should maybe break up.”

Silence.

It was so much easier to say than he had thought it would be. Everything they had together, everything they could have in the future, was so easily destroyed with one deceptively small sentence.

The arm around his shoulders tensed, and Prompto could hear his breath stop for one very agonizingly long minute.

Then, a long, gusty sigh.

“I know you do not mean that, my love.”

“I _do_.”

“You _don’t_ –“

“You don’t _know_ anything!” Prompto practically wailed, despite still pressing his face into Ignis’s purple and black leopard print shirt (which would look tacky on literally anyone else).

There was another long pause.

“You are right.”

Sure that Ignis was ready to take his suggestion and end their relationship, Prompto’s already manic sobbing somehow managed to become even more uncontrollable. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His chest was tight and he felt nauseous and every inch of his head ached, and he could only barely hear Ignis’s smooth voice over the sounds of his own crying.

“I don’t understand – not truly, try as I might. I can only empathize with your situation, and believe me when I say that it is so terribly frustrating to know that the limits of my knowledge leave me unable to bring you comfort,” Ignis crooned in his ear, “But I do know that you love me just as much as I love you – and I _do_ , Prompto. I love you with every fiber of my being, and that includes every aspect of you.”

Prompto only barely was able to draw enough breath to speak.

“But, you’re _gay_!”

“A revolutionary observ-“ Ignis halted mid-snark for a long moment. “Is… Oh, _Prompto_ …”

Ignis moved like a snake, sliding around Prompto’s prone form to sit where he was previously laying. He wrapped his arms around his upper back to hold him to his chest, propping his feet up on the footrest he had popped out from the couch to close Prompto off from the rest of the world. The blankets were tugged up to his shoulders, and Ignis lowered his head so his nose was brushing his ear.

“Prompto, you are going to be silent, and you are going to listen to what I have to say.”

“Just _go_ -!”

 “Be _silent_ , love.”

Why wouldn’t he just take the out?! Prompto was giving him the perfect opportunity to walk away – all he had to do was drop his sorry ass back on the couch and walk out the door to experience the kind of freedom he couldn’t have for the last seven years.

Still, Prompto was beginning to wear himself out. His cycle was already making him lethargic, and breaking down the day before left him numb and too upset to sleep, so he had gone into this running on fumes, as it was.

“Let me begin by saying that you would be doing me no favors by breaking my heart,” Ignis nearly whispered, sending Prompto into another fit of tears, “You would not be helping me by robbing me of the endless love and joy that I have basked in for the better part of a decade. You have introduced a happiness into my life that can only be described as a ray of sunlight piercing through stormclouds, and you only continue to make me happier with each and every passing day.”

Ignis brushed his bangs from his face, following the motion through to comb his fingers through his hair.

“That said, I have never, for even the briefest of moments, thought of you as any less of a man as the rest of our motley crew. You are every bit as masculine as Gladiolus, you are just as effective in combat as Noctis, and you make me feel safer and more cared for in bed than any other partner I have ever had.”

He paused to kiss his ear, his hair, his temple. Oh, how he loved with Ignis kissed him…

“You know I wouldn’t dare force you to stay with me, if you truly wish to end our relationship,” he continued, and Prompto’s stomach roiled at how devastated he sounded, “But if you are doing it because of the silicone you use to make love to me, or the scars on your body, then I will be the first to tell you that you are being absurd.”

He was stupid. He was so fucking _stupid_.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Seven years – they’ve been together for seven years, and he was about to tear it up because he was feeling emotional? Because he was insecure?

For fuck’s sake, this would ruin Iggy’s life as much as it would ruin his.

He was so fucking stupid.

He should just die –

“Prompto, my love, it is time to stop crying, now,” Ignis cooed, massaging the base of his skull with his fingers, “Come, now, it isn’t that bad. You know everything is alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m –“

“I know, love. You needn’t apologize to me for feeling inadequate.”

“But, I almost –“

“I know what you almost did, and I refuse to hear any more of the matter. You are forgiven and, far as I am concerned, it is already behind us.”

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true for Ignis. He knew that it would take several nights of going to sleep and waking up with his lover snuggled up next to him to reassure him that Prompto would not actually be leaving him, but he couldn’t bring himself to display that kind of honesty in that moment. Prompto needed him to be strong and level-headed, and showing just how shaken Ignis felt by the idea of being separated from his partner would only make Prompto’s anxiety worse.

How he wished he could just absorb all of his hurt and insecurities…

“How… How can you even _stand_ me?”

Ignis offered a cautious, tired smile and kissed his hair.

“How many times must I repeat myself?” he asked with as much warmth as possible, “I love you, Prompto. I love you because you always put me first, and you listen to my near-endless soliloquies when I am sorting out Noctis’s insufferable schedule, and because of the way your skin gets warm whenever I tell you just how _much_ I love you. I love the way your voice rings in the same way I remember you eyes glitter when you take a particularly fantastic photograph. I love the way you think that, just because I am blind, I don’t know you are taking candid pictures of me when I am working. I love the way you treat my meals like a blessing each day, even if I have made it a thousand times. I love how you sleep with your head tilted back and your mouth hanging open, even though you always complain about your mouth being dry when you wake up. I love your smile, as terribly as I miss seeing it. I love you for how devoted you are to your country…”

His smile turned sly, and he lowered his voice.

“I love all the needy little noises you make, and the way you pull my hair, when I go down on you…”

Prompto’s cheeks flared, and he yanked the covers over his head to hide. “ _Iggy_!”

Ignis chuckled, pressing his lips to his head. “But I haven’t even gotten to the part where I love how you clamp down on my cock when you c-“

“Okay, okay, I _get_ it!” Blushing furiously, Prompto slapped a hand over Ignis’s laughing mouth, “Jeeze, man!”

“And, _oh_ , when you choke and gag on it when you are being held –“

“Iggy, please, I’m gonna die of embarrassment here!”

Peeling the blanket back, Ignis hauled Prompto back into his lap to slant his mouth over his.

“But I haven’t even gotten to the part where I tell you how much I love it when I have you tied to the bed –“

“Oh, god!”

“And you’re begging for me to beat you harder with the crop –“

“Ignis…”

“And you’re so aroused that, the instant I touch you, you come all over my fingers…”

Prompto squirmed, rubbing his knees together, and didn’t protest when Ignis nipped at his lips, “Iggy… I…”

Ignis slipped a gloved hand under the hem of Prompto’s t-shirt, fingers gliding over his skin to give his waist a firm squeeze.

“Go get cleaned up, get that insufferable wad of toilet paper out of your underwear, and meet me in the bedroom.”

Prompto was out of his lap and had the bathroom door shut behind him in three seconds flat.

Ignis chuckled and stood up to grab a towel from the linen closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/friendlysenpai) and [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/A78050VD), so, you know. If you want.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is afraid that Prompto will actually leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this to have a second chapter, but it's been kinda nagging at me.  
> So, here we are.

_Thursday, 1:00 AM_

Should you ask, Prompto could describe his partner in a dozen different ways. He would tell you that Ignis was the epitome of discipline. The keenest of their group. Infinitely wise. Creative in ways Prompto didn’t even know you could be creative. Supremely knowledgeable. So skilled in bed that even a prostitute would blush. A ferocious fighter.

What Prompto would not describe him as, was someone who got deadass drunk on a Wednesday night.

“Iggy?”

Still on the couch, more or less stunned in place, Prompto watched Ignis as he accidentally slammed the door shut. He lingered there for a moment, the hand he still had on the door knob likely the only thing keeping him upright.

“Evenin’, Prom.”

Ugh, he hated that nickname. It snapped him out of his paralysis, though, and he jumped up from the sofa to rush over to his partner before he toppled to the floor, or broke the knob. The distinct sour smell of tequila wafting over him like a Marlboro attack. Gross.

“Ignis, are… Are you _drunk_?” he asked a little accusatory, surprise leaving him unable to check his tone before speaking.

 “I most certainly am not - _oh_!”

Ignis’s feet and his brain apparently weren’t on the same page, because he only managed two steps before his ankles crossed and he stumbled into Prompto’s hold.

“Dude, you are _so_ wasted.”

This… Was not good. Ignis didn’t get drunk – ever. Sure, he got a little tipsy at a bar every now and then if it was within walking distance of his apartment, but he was kinda anal about keeping his wits about him in all scenarios he found himself in – especially if he was out with friends, having taken on the role of den mother decades ago.

Also, he didn’t fucking drink _tequila_. Iggy _hated_ tequila. He hated the sour taste and the effervescent feeling it left in your chest. When he drank, it was usually old men drinks like bourbon on the rocks with a twist or a black Russian.

“My sweet lil birb,” Ignis breathed into his jaw, stumbling with Prompto as he was guided to the bed. He crawled on top of the duvet, the same one Prompto had used to wrap himself up last month, and dragged his lover with him.

 

* * *

 

_Wednesday, 12:45 PM_

Ignis felt like, to put it bluntly, shit. Specifically, he felt like a shit sandwich that was thrown into an oven and then promptly forgotten.

It was no mystery as to how he had come to find himself in such a state. For the last three weeks, Ignis had been unable to get the proper amount of sleep required for him to be well rested. On a good night, he was able to get a couple hours of fitful, frequently interrupted sleep, but, otherwise, his nights were spent with him glowering in the direction of his ceiling. No amount of late night workouts, chamomile tea, soaks in the tub, or unsatisfying masturbation could relax him enough to slip into blissful sleep, and it was rapidly ruining his day-to-day life.

Work was piling up because he couldn’t concentrate, he was snapping at innocent underlings because of the stress of his work piling up, he nearly lost an arm to Gladiolus’s blade the day before because he was all but dead on his feet during training, and he had come dangerously close to committing regicide earlier that day when Noctis complained about the caramelized onions and brussel sprouts that accompanied his lunch.

Why was he unable to sleep you ask?

Because of Prompto.

The rational part of Ignis understood that the anxiety Prompto experienced made him say things he didn’t mean – that, sometimes, he snapped beneath the stress imposed on him as the second in command Kingsglaive.

Unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, Ignis wasn’t always rational.

_“I think we should maybe break up.”_

There were only three moments in Ignis’s life when he had felt truly, and utterly devastated – that his life was crumbling around his ears. The first had been when he heard news of Prompto being shoved off of a speeding train and subsequently kidnapped by Ardyn. The second was when Noctis had been pulled into the Crystal, and they believed he was lost forever. The third had been when Noctis took a picture from Prompto – the first selfie they took together on their journey – to take with him to the other side, and they were convinced that he would perish after his battle against Ardyn.

Hearing those words fall from Prompto’s lips was the fourth.

It didn’t matter if Ignis knew that Prompto didn’t really mean it – never, ever, had Prompto ever said something like that, before. He said that he didn’t deserve Ignis, that he “knew” that Ignis was repulsed by his sex, that Ignis would “of course” be happier with someone with a “real” man. It caused Ignis endless pain to hear the love of his life speak so lowly of himself, but he never attempt to forcibly end their relationship.

Ignis could still feel the way his stomach turned cold. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and his heart caving in on itself. The icy, sharp slivers of panic continued to stab at him, even nearly a month after the fact.

_“I think we should maybe break up.”_

It replayed in his head every time he had a moment to himself, like a daemon haunting him. Ignis would spend the time after that torturing himself with visions of Prompto leaving him in various situations. Walking out on him after showing up on his doorstep to collect his belongings, meeting with Ignis for dinner to break the news, leaving a note on his nightstand after a night of final lovemaking, Ignis had effectively imagined with every conceivable method Prompto could use to end their partnership.

Which was why he hadn’t been brave enough to return any of his phone calls.

It was childish – Ignis was fully aware that he was acting like a spooked teenager – but he had successfully made himself too afraid to come into contact with Prompto, lest he risk giving him an open to break up with him.

The distance only made things worse, however.

Which led to now, with Ignis worrying away at the scar on his bottom lip from the attack on Altissia all those years ago.

“You gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on between you and Prompto?” Gladiolus asked, gruff voice pulling him from his self-induced void of despair.

“Pardon me?”

Gladiolus rolled his eyes and used his knife to saw at what was easily the largest burrito Ignis had ever seen.

“For the last, like, month Prom’s been all jittery and shit, and I haven’t seen you this pissy since you had to relearn how to cook after Altissia. That’s not a coincidence.”

Ignis’s frown deepened, and he sipped at his iced coffee. The gentle clinking of the ice cubes bumping along the glass did nothing to ease his nerves.

“I…” he sighed, setting the glass back down onto the ring of condensation that had formed on the table, “I am afraid I allowed something affect me in a way that has disrupted both of our lives.”

One of Gladiolus’s eyebrows crept towards his hairline.

“Sometimes I really fuckin’ hate how cryptic you can be, you know that?” he said around a mouthful of food.

It was only thanks to his adoration for his friend, and his self control, that Ignis did not immediately snap at him. Instead, he took a moment to push his grilled asparagus around on his plate with his fork. When he recollected himself, Ignis explained everything that had transpired after they had been left alone.

Gladiolus abandoned hi burrito to sag into the back of his chair, exhaling loudly.

“Well… Shit.”

“I understand that I am overreacting, but… I simply cannot get it out of my head.”

“No, I… Shit, Iggy,” Gladiolus sighed again, “If Noct said something like that to me, I dunno _what_ I’d do. We’ve already almost lost him so many times – I dunno if I could handle hearing that.”

Ignis nudged his plate away, too stressed to eat (he would likely just vomit it up, anyways). “I haven’t the slightest idea how to approach the subject with him. I had put off seeing him for so long that the discussion is inevitable, but... I worry that it will worsen his anxiety and send him into another panic attack.”

“And avoiding him won’t?”

He was right – there was no avoiding it.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do.” Gladiolus took a large swig of water and returned to his burrito. “When the day’s over, we’re gonna clock out and go to the bar. And we’re gonna get shitfaced. And you’re gonna pass the fuck out at your house and sleep the damn day away so you don’t go to Prom lookin’ like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes, “We both have work -  what are you doing?”

Gladiolus had his phone in the hand not shoveling food into his mouth, and Ignis could hear the familiar tapping of him sending a text message.

“Noct just gave you the rest of the week off.”

 

* * *

 

_Thursday, 1:15 AM_

Ignis’s hands were clumsy as they pushed their way under Prompto’s shirt.

“I-Iggy – stop – you’re drunk.”

Prompto’s stomach passed butterflies and went straight into bats fluttering around, hands gripping Ignis’s wrists to hold them in place. The thing was, Ignis was strong. _Really_ strong. You had to be, when your weapon specialties were polearms and throwing daggers. You know what you didn’t have to be when you used guns? Strong. Prompto might as well have tried to fend off a behemoth with broken arms; Ignis’s palms – where were his gloves? – continued over his rib cage. When his fingers came into contact with his chest binder, Ignis huffed.

“I despise these wretched things.”

For a moment, Prompto thought he was going to try taking it off. Instead, Ignis shifted to bury his face in his chest. Instinctively, Prompto’s fingers nestled in his ashy brown hair.

“Iggy…”

“I hate how you feel compelled to hide your body,” Ignis mumbled into his chest, fingers curling into Prompto’s ribcage and flattening back out erratically, “As if it is sometin’ to be ashamed of. ”

But… He felt like he _had_ to. Truth be told, Prompto only started wearing them because Noctis, bless his heart, introduced him to them when he had purchased some for Prompto when he admitted he had none. It had since been somewhat ingrained into his head that binding his chest was a necessary act. That not wanting to vomit at the sight of his breasts would make him not _trans_ enough.

Hearing Ignis confess that he would rather Prompto not wear them… It should have pissed him off. It should have made his stomach churn. It was _not_ his call, and Ignis should have no say in what he did with his own body. But, Prompto felt… _Relieved_.

Oblivious to Prompto’s mild epiphany, Ignis just… Broke down.

“I love you, Prompto,” he whispered into his shirt, “I love you, I love you, I love you. Prompto, I love you so much, I am so sorry if I ever make you feel like you are not enough…”

Ignis had cried in front of him, before. Of course he had – you don’t know someone this intimately for twenty years without seeing them cry at some point. But this was completely different from the anniversary of his parents’ death, or when their dog was killed by a daemon during the dark years. No, Ignis was having a complete breakdown on top of him, his entire body trembling and jerking with every heaving sob. His knuckles glowed white from the way he was _clinging_ to Prompto’s body, as if he’d die if they were separated. Yet, he made no noise. No tears were shed.

It was a total role reversal; instead of him being the one suffering from anxiety, it was Ignis.

Ignis was _suffering_.

“Please, do not leave me.”

Pain, a literal dull _ache_ , struck Prompto square in the chest. It raced through his bones, starting at his sternum where it hurt the worst. This wasn’t right. Ignis – Ignis couldn’t sound so _broken_. Ignis was strong, and levelheaded, and never let himself look so _small_.

Was this how he felt when Prompto’s anxiety claimed him?

Oh, god, Prompto was scared.

But so was Iggy. Moreso, even.

Both of Prompto’s hands were buried in his hair, now, and he gently rolled them over so that Ignis was the one lying on his back. He tried to recall everything his partner did for him when he was experiencing an episode, and dragged the extra pillows on his bed around Ignis’s body like a nest. He covered him with his body, his nose and lips brushing along his forehead.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Iggy,” he crooned, “Why’d you even say somethin’ like that?”

But Ignis was hardly paying any attention to him, nuzzling his partner and silently pushing his face into his neck. Every now and then he would profess his love in an almost inaudible whisper, or beg Prompto to remain as his partner.

It wasn’t just the alcohol.

Being without Ignis for so long had been torture. He knew that something he had said during the last time they were together had set something off in Ignis’s brain; it was the only explanation for why, for the first time since they had become friends, he ghosted him. Prompto had been too raw, too emotionally hungover, to risk upsetting Ignis by forcing him to talk about why he had left the next morning without saying goodbye. But, as the days healed him, he grew braver. He left voice messages and sent text messages every chance he got, going so far as to leave notes on Ignis’s fridge. He thought about staking out his apartment, but figured if he didn’t want to talk to Prompto, then he wasn’t going to invade his private space like that.

 It just didn’t make any sense.

Why would Ignis vanish after spending the night cradling his naked body and telling him how much he loved him – how proud he was to be his partner?

Prompto had spent the better part of a month riding out anxiety attacks on his own, usually retching into a toilet.

“I _need_ you, Prompto.”

Those words, normally spoken to him as a declaration of his arousal, sounded all wrong in such a wildly different context. Prompto resumed pepping kisses over every inch of Ignis’s face, one of the hands in his hair trailing down to cup his cheek.

“Iggy, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured into his skin, “Please calm down. Please?”

“Let’s wed.”

 _Whoa_! Alright, time to hit the fucking breaks.

“What?”

Ignis was a creature of habit, and one habit he never grew out of was withdrawing enough to “look” at him.

“Marry me, Prompto,” he repeated, voice thick, “Here, I even –“

He reached into his pocket to retrieve a –

Oh.

Oh, _fuck_.

A deceptively small velvet box was being wedged between Prompto’s palm and Ignis’s cheek. Anyone who had been on the planet for longer than five minutes knew what that box was – what it meant.

Which was exactly why Prompto couldn’t bring himself to open it; he understood what was happening, now. It had been resolved so quickly that Prompto was quick to put it behind him, but trying to break up with Ignis during his fit had truly and deeply hurt him.

Those intrusive thoughts started to do their thing. They started to weigh him down, reminding him what a piece of shit he was. But he was quick to shut them out, focusing his entire being on Ignis in that moment.

Prompto tugged at his bedding, pulling the fitted sheet from where it clung to the corner of his mattress to bunch it up around Ignis with his duvet. He pried Ignis’s fingers free, offering gentle words of reassurance to let him know that he would be back, before slipping off of the bed for the linen closet. There was another comforter, two more sets of sheets, and a couple pillows that Prompto could hardly see over once they were stacked in his arms; they were subtle reminders of when he used to sleep in closets, too afraid to fall asleep in open spaces. He padded back over to the bed and got to work, feeling Ignis’s eyes on him the entire time.

The good news was that his curiosity drowned out his booze-induced mania. The bad news was that he likely hadn’t had anything to drink or eat since before getting to the bar, and Prompto had no fuckin’ clue how to make anything other than cup noodle and sandwiches. It was kinda pathetic, when you thought about it: a full-grown man being unable to properly care for himself; Prompto really was way too reliant on Ignis.

Well, it was his turn to do the taking care of. With one sheet draped over his bed, hanging from the head and footboards, Prompto bunched up the blankets and pillows to create what could honestly only be described as a nest. It was big enough for two people, and Prompto was very proud of his handiwork when everything was set up into the perfect makeshift pillow fort. Really, it was even better than a pillow fort, since they weren’t on the floor.

Noctis could eat his fuckin’ heart out – _Prompto_ was the pillow fort king.

Withdrawing one last time from his partner, Prompto pulled three clean plastic cups from a cupboard and filled them with water, carefully carrying them back to the bed. This way, when the post-shtifaced thirst struck Ignis like a speeding train, he wouldn’t have to get out of bed to get him any water.

Actually, Ignis should probably drink one before going to sleep.

He set the cups on the nightstand and reached into the fort to get Ignis’s attention, only for a very strong arm to shoot out and drag him in by the waist.

“Stay.”

Both of his hands were still shaking, and Ignis’s voice sounded more like a plea than a command. Prompto let his lover drag him into the nest he had made for them, feeling like a ragdoll as his limbs were arranged to Ignis’s liking. Once Ignis was tucked into Prompto’s shoulder, arms and one leg draped over him possessively, Prompto was reminded of the water.

“Iggy, you should drink something.”

Ignis grunted and responded by burying his face in the crook of his shoulder.

Neither of them were going to be moving from this spot until Ignis said so.

And Prompto was perfectly okay with that.

 

* * *

 

 

_Thursday, 12:30 PM_

Let’s go get drunk, Gladiolus said. We’ll have fun, he said. You’ll finally be able to sleep, and then you can patch things up with Prompto, he said!

Ignis glared at the nightstand, where he had left it. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there. He had accidentally bumped it during his desperate search for water. Astrals, he had never felt so parched in his entire life; it felt as if he had licked antiperspirant before coating his mouth with dust.

That was the least of his concerns, now, though.

_What had he **done**._

This wasn’t how he wanted things to go. Ignis was going to lay out a plan. He wanted to take Prompto to some place like Galdin Quay or Altissia, and wine and dine him and wait on him hand and foot. He was going to do it under the stars, on the beach or on a gondola, and everything was going to be perfect, and Ignis _ruined_ it.

Next to him, Prompto stirred and used the arm he had draped over Ignis’s waist to scoot close enough to properly spoon him. At least Gladiolus had been right about one thing: alcohol was a surefire way to get him to konk out. He couldn’t recall much of last night, but Prompto seemed to have created some kind of fort for the two of them to sleep in. Ignis honestly couldn’t think of the last time he felt so comfortable. Though, the nest-like arrangement of blankets and pillows made Ignis question for one fearful moment that Prompto _was_ part chocobo like they so often joked. He went toe to toe with an Astral on two separate occasions – nothing would surprise him, anymore.

 _That_ would have been the perfect way to propose!

Not with Prompto being a chocobo, but tying the ring to a chocobo’s neck on a ribbon. His love would have gone out of his _mind_.

Actually, Prompto would have likely thought that the _chocobo_ was the one proposing to him.

“Iggy..?”

His lover’s groggy voice pulled him from his thoughts. Ignis wondered if he could pretend to be asleep, but decided that it would be best to get the conversation out of the way as soon as possible.

He snuggled back into Prompto’s body, noting that he was wearing pajamas while Ignis was still in his button down and slacks. How late was he out?

“How’re you feeling? D’you need anything?” Prompto murmured into his hair.

Thankfully, Ignis’s hangover symptoms only included a seemingly unquenchable thirst and a mild headache thanks to the way his greasy dinner coated his stomach prior to his binge drinking. He carefully reached for his second glass of water, forcing himself to take small sips as opposed to deep gulps. It eased his thirst, but also gave himself a moment to prepare. When he was satisfied, he retreated to inside the fort.

“I am sorry, Prompto.”

“It’s okay – we’re okay.”

“I abandoned you,” he practically hissed, “How can you act as if everything is alright?”

Prompto nuzzled his forehead into Ignis’s hair, “Because you’re back.”

Dammit. Prompto was too loving – too easy to please, even after all these years of Ignis doting on him like a lovesick puppy.

“I’m gonna make us breakfast, mkay? Drink some of that water.”

Ignis wasn’t in the right state of mind to argue. He was tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and headachy, and all of those things made him want to just curl up in bed and rest for a while longer. Once another glass was greedily sucked down, Ignis closed his eyes and nodded off until Prompto had returned with some kind of breakfast sandwich.

“Sorry, I don’t have a whole lot in the house, right now,” Prompto apologized, looking sheepish as he settled down next to him.

Ignis poked the sandwich tentatively. A bagel had been sliced in two, toasted, and what felt like scrambled eggs, spinach, and chopped bacon were nestled between the halves. It was simple enough to not upset his stomach, though he was going to have to take extra care to maintain a healthy diet for the next couple of weeks to make up for the last twenty-four hours.

At the first bite, Ignis was pleasantly surprised. Asiago was baked into the bagel, and sriracha had been drizzled over the eggs.

He finished chewing, and washed it down with a gulp of water from the third glass, “Prompto, this is delicious.”

Prompto’s entire visage lit up like a Christmas tree, “Really?!”

“Absolutely. I hope you are not indulging in this much sodium and cholesterol every morning, but these ingredients have created such a savory flavor profile, and the different textures is immensely satisfying.”

Prompto grinned, “Nah, I don’t have it every morning.”

“That is good.”

“Sometimes I save it for lunch, instead.”

Ignis sighed, but had to hide a grin when Prompto bumped his shoulder playfully.

They finished their breakfast in a companionable silence, side by side. At some point, Prompto turned on the TV (without removing the roof of the bed-pillow fort), and Ignis felt guilty for not paying any attention to it, even though his partner had sacrificed afternoon cartoons to put the news on for him. No matter how much he tried to concentrate on the riots in Niflheim, his mind insisted on wandering to the box on the nightstand. It made his breakfast taste bland in his mouth. What a waste.

When they were both finished, and they had some time to settle down, Ignis took the remote and muted the television.

“I am going to be frank, Prompto.”

Prompto’s eyes, so wide and bright even after all he had been through, filled with a dread Ignis couldn’t see.

“You frightened me more than I was willing to let on, when we were last together,” he admitted, “I know better but, at some point, I had managed to convince myself that you were planning on breaking things off. The stress of being without you was only compounded by my work in the Citadel, and…” Ignis sighed, ashamed of his childishness, “I should have discussed it with you, rather than give in to my fears and shut you out. I truly am sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

Taking his plate, Prompto stacked their dishes together and set them on the other nightstand before guiding Ignis to lie with him in the pillows. They were facing each other on their sides, like earlier.

“I told you, Ignis. What matters is that you’re here with me, now. I forgive you.”

The amicable smile in Prompto’s voice soothed the hurt and worry in Ignis’s chest, and he finally relaxed enough to properly enjoy finally being in his lover’s presence. He must have felt the same way, because Prompto closed the distance between their faces to bring their lips together in a kiss.

The last of his persisting tension bled away, and he surrendered himself to Prompto’s lips. It tasted like forgiveness and love and understanding (also, sriracha), and Ignis couldn’t imagine being this happy anywhere else. Right here, in his partner’s arms, being so wholly loved, was the only place Ignis ever wanted to be, for the rest of his life.

They separated but didn’t pull away, merely basking in each others’ presence. Patient fingers followed muscle paths and connected freckles, and Ignis inhaled deep through his nose to breathe in Prompto’s scent.

“Hey, Iggy?”

“Yes?”

“Last night, you, uh, you said…”

Oh, god, the ring. Here it comes.

“You said you don’t like me wearing binders.”

Wait, what –

“Did… Did you mean it..?”

Slowly, Ignis opened his good eye in horror. He wriggled around in Prompto’s embrace until he was on his side, facing him, with one elbow propping him up.

“Oh, Prompto, I am _so_ sorry,” he started, “It was not my place to speak on what you do with your body – if I said anything to hurt you, please accept my sincerest apologies. I swear to you that I will _never_ speak to you in such a disrespectful manner ever again.”

Prompto’s voice was quiet, “But… Did you mean it..?”

Ignis’s brow dented. “I haven’t the slightest clue as to why it would matter if –“

“Ignis.”

He caught his already wounded lip between his teeth, agitating the sore there with his canine. It shouldn’t matter how Ignis felt towards his chest binders. Whether or not Prompto wore them should be because it was what _he_ wanted, not because he wanted to cater to Ignis’s preferences.

Prompto’s expectant gaze was pinning him down. He wasn’t getting out of this before elaborating.

It would help if he could recall what he had even said, in the first place.

“I…” Ignis rubbed his palm over his jaw, stubble scratching the skin there. Where were his gloves?

“Your binders are a constant reminder that you don’t see yourself the same way I do,” he explained, voice quiet, as his bare fingers combed through his hair to dispel some of his bed head, “It pains me to know that you are so unhappy with your body that you feel you must hide it, even if it causes you discomfort.”

Even if he couldn’t see it, he could feel Prompto’s face fall. The hand he had on Ignis’s waist started pinching and twisting the fabric of his dress shirt, fidgeting.

“But… You…”

“Yes, my love, I am very much aware of my sexual preference.”

Which exclusively included Prompto, more or less.He was Promtosexual.

“So… You wouldn’t… Mind? If I stopped wearing them?” Gods, Prompto sounded so unsure of himself that Ignis was nearly overcome by the need to soothe his anxieties. He fell back to the sheets and cuddled close enough for Prompto’s breath to warm his lips, taking hold of the hand he had on the bed between them.

“I would mind very much if it were to make you feel gross, love. Please do not sacrifice your own comfort for the sake of my selfish desires.”

“But, I… I kinda like them. My tits.”

Color splashed across Ignis’s face; he could feel it. He gaped at Prompto, literally too stunned to think up a response.

“I mean… They’re soft and round and squishy and kinda fun to play with when I’m laying in bed, or something…”

Ignis was subjected to bona fide speechlessness. For years – for the entire time he had known about Prompto being transgender – he was under the impression that Prompto was repulsed by all of his body’s feminine traits. Prompto wore binders night and day, in spite of the health risks that doing so would impose. He did special leg workouts to slim his hips down. He wore packers in his jeans any time he left the house. He refused to fully undress his torso for sex, even with the lights off, unless he was facing away from Ignis. He endured sweat and grime after training sessions to shower and change in the privacy of his apartment. Astrals forbid Ignis so much as accidentally brushed against them.

Ignis’s brain couldn’t process that, this whole time, Prompto secretly appreciated them for their aesthetic beauty. It was like trying to grasp a wet soap bar, always slipping free from his fingers just as soon as he thought he had a solid grip.

“Then, why do you go through such pains to hide them..?”

Prompto shrank, if only slightly. “’Cos I’m s’posed to.”

Because he was _supposed_ to? “I-I am afraid I do not understand, love.” He made sure to add the pet name at the end, hoping it would ease his worries even as he began to feel more and more like a fish out of water.

The hand holding his squeezed tighter, and Ignis squeezed back.

“Guys like me are supposed to be grossed out by their bodies, ya know? When I came out to Noct, he helped me find all these resources and forums, and…”

“And you felt pressured into fitting into a mold.”

Prompto nodded, his hair brushing over Ignis’s nose.

“Why did you not inform me, then? You never permitted me to touch you – or view your bare chest, even in an entirely chaste manner.”

There were many moments throughout their relationship that Ignis felt the twinge of hurt when Prompto turned his back in shame when showering together, or undressing.

He could feel Prompto’s eyebrow rise in a “Do I gotta say it again” way, and Ignis felt much less intelligent than he actually was for even asking. He sighed, because he was very much exhausted by having to repeat himself, and took a moment to allow his frustration to ebb.

“Prompto, how many times must I _remind_ you that your body doesn’t bother me?”

Alright, so maybe it was a little more difficult to contain one’s agitation when they were suffering from an alcohol-induced headache.

“Being attracted to men does not even _remotely_ imply that the-“ Ignis hesitates for only a fraction of a second, deciding then and there that he must be harsh if his point is to have the effect he is seeking, “Female form disgusts me. I will not be sent retching into the nearest toilet at the sight of breasts, and you have already come to learn that am just as enthusiastic about burying myself between your legs as I am about you bending me over my desk.”

Prompto was silent during his rant, and Ignis worried that he was beginning to upset him, but he couldn’t stop himself from continuing on with,

“I am attracted to _masculinity_ , Prompto. I am attracted to the way your voice become husky when you are tired. I am attracted to the calluses on your hands, the angle of your jaw, the strength in your shoulders, the way you so readily accept challenges from our friends.”

Ignis heard his thinly veiled anger seep into his voice, “ _Yes_ , I am _gay_. I was gay before I met you. I was gay when we agreed to be exclusive. I was gay when we first shared intimacies, and enjoyed ever moment of it. And I am _still_ gay for wanting to strip you down and make love to you until you understand I can want to latch my mouth onto your breasts and still be _just_ as homosexual as I was before.”

A small sound met his ears and, for a horrifying moment, Ignis thought he had made Prompto cry. His stomach dropped and he opened his mouth to apologize profusely, to beg for forgiveness from the person he held most dear, but, then,

“Man, of course it’d be you to be the kinda person that makes being angry all sweet and stuff.”

It was a giggle. Prompto was laughing.

No, he heard a sniff. He was crying.

Releasing his hand, Ignis brushed the backs of his knuckles over a freckled cheek. A tear track smeared with the movement.

“Prompto, love, I am –“

“No, no, don’t,” Prompto interjected, sniffling, “I, uh, actually needed to hear that. You probably could’a left out the whole “female form” thing, though.”

Even teeth sank into his lip, ignoring how sore it was from being gnawed on for the last month, “Well, then, I apologize for my momentary lapse in judgment.”

Prompto chuckled again, but didn’t respond. Not at first, at least. When he did, it was impossible for Ignis to not hear the relief in his voice – not the kind of relief one felt when they realized that the spooky home intruder was just their reflection, but the relief felt when a difficult battle ended and you saw your teammates unscathed.

“I think I might get rid of some, then,” he stated, fingers tracing indiscernible patterns into Ignis’s chest, “Donate them to one of those trans resource sites, maybe. I-I wanna keep one or two, though, for formal events, or one of those bad days, but… I mean… If neither of us like it, there’s no real point in wearing them, right? And it’s not like Noct or Gladio are gonna care.” A pause. “I don’t even think Gladio even knows what a binder _is_.”

The corner or Ignis’s raw mouth slanted upwards at that. In fact, once Prompto came out, Gladiolus had spent an entire weekend educating himself on everything there was to know about gender dysphoria. It was actually their friend who spoke with Clarus to convince King Regis to cover hormone replacement therapy and top surgery under the military’s medical benefits. He and Ignis spent many sleepless nights acquiring the necessary data, and he would do it all over again if necessary.

“Is that what you want for yourself?”

“I… Maybe? Like, I know I’m gonna be nervous and stuff going out in public. I might have to work up to going binderless full-time. But…” Prompto sighed, and laughed to himself, “I’m not wearing one right now, and it feels kinda great.”

Ignis’s eyes – well, eye – flitted down to Prompto’s chest. It was a fruitless attempt at confirming this for himself, given, you know, he was _blind_. Either way, Prompto found it rather amusing and wormed closer so that their chests were touching.

“See?”

He blushed like a teenager, heat filling his cheeks, at the sensation of distinctly soft mounds being pressed to his chest.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

That was _nice_.

“… Iggy…?”

Ignis wrenched himself out of his daze. He closed his mouth, which had opened without his consent.

“I haven’t ever wished so much for my eyesight to have returned, Prompto.”

His honesty was rewarded with one of Prompto’s shy giggles. It was true – Ignis had seen them before, it was as inevitable as accidentally walking in on Noctis in the nude, but it was only ever by accident. He always quickly averted his gaze out of respect, and never had the opportunity to see more than a brief flash of skin. And, oh, how he so desperately wanted to rid his partner of his nightshirt and gaze at what he was _sure_ were the two most fabulous of the gods’ creations.

With their chests pressed together like this, he could feel the acceleration of Prompto’s heart rate. Ignis wasn’t quite sure if he was embarrassed, or if his words had made him feel dysphoric at all, or what, but a cool, slender finger started to trail down his arm.

“Well…” Prompto started, sounding as nervous as his racing heart implied, “Don’t they always say that blind people see with their hands..?”

Ignis prided himself on always being prepared, always thinking at least three steps ahead of those around him, but Prompto was doing a spectacular job of throwing him off balance. His whole mouth went dry, and not because of his binge drinking from the night before.

“You needn’t push yourself, love –“ Where his composed voice was coming from was entirely a mystery to him, “- Just this is such a large change –“

He was cut off by Prompto throwing a leg over his hip and rolling the two of them so that Ignis was lying flat on his back with his lover straddling his hips. The movement pulled the sheet still draped over the bed from the headboard, so Prompto pulled it back entirely to let it fall to a puddle of fabric at the foot of the mattress. Cool air rushed to Ignis’s inflamed cheeks, and his hands instinctively smoothed over Prompto’s hips.

He frowned, slightly; Prompto had lost weight during their time apart.

Prompto shifted again, and there was the light rustling of fabric that preceded a very muted _thmp_ of something lightweight dropping to the floor. Ignis’s brow drew inwards, confused, until a gentle hand guided his palm from his skinny hip to his belly. His fingers twitched in surprise at the bare skin.

That sound.

It was Prompto’s shirt.

Prompto was topless.

Prompto was topless and _putting Ignis’s hands on his body._

Ignis was simultaneously infuriated over his lack of eyesight, aroused by what his imagination was procuring for him _in lieu_ of his lack of eyesight, and so absolutely overwhelmed by the situation that his brain blanked entirely.

“I want you to,” Prompto assured him, “If you want to, I mean,” he tacked on as an afterthought.

Prompto waited patiently while Ignis so obviously warred with himself. His stomach was fluttering painfully, and his chest and arms were beginning to tingle with rising anxiety, but he told himself to exercise the same kind of composure that he was showing. It made sense that his partner would think twice (or twenty) times before crossing the line that had been very clearly, if nonverbally, drawn between them.

Understanding didn’t make him any less anxious, though. Prompto just wanted to get it over with. He wanted – _craved_ – the validation that came with knowing Ignis wasn’t just talking out his ass, that he _would_ be attracted to every part of him. He was putting himself so completely out in the open for him, and he was so afraid of the rejection that his dumbass brain told him was inevitable.

Even worse, he braced himself for fake enthusiasm. Prompto wouldn’t put it past Ignis to pretend to enjoy his body, if only to preserve his state of mind.

The set of Ignis’s jaw changed, and both of his palms smoothed over his waist, touch firm.

“Promise that, if you are at all uncomfortable, you will tell me to stop.” Ignis sounded almost breathless.

Oh, gods, this was happening. Prompto nodded, “Swear on me mum.”

Fuck, he was so fuckin’ lame. Outdated jokes were bad enough in a normal situation, but Ignis didn’t even seem to notice. His hands skirted back down to his hips, then back up, then over his thighs, then back up, each languid movement bringing him just a fraction of an inch higher than before. Prompto had half a mind to just grab him and forcefully put his hands on his chest because holy shit this buildup was too much and he wanted this so bad.

When Ignis’s fingertips grazed the underside of his right breast, Prompto thought his heart was going to pop. In a flash of panic, he thought about backing out, about telling Ignis that he was right and he wasn’t ready for this. Heat pricked at the corners of his eyes. Please, please, _please_ , don't hate them, _please_...

He waited for the crash.

“Oh…” Ignis sighed, almost in awe. The fingertips of his other hand slid upwards to mirror its twin.

Ignis did not immediately grasp anything. Rather, he gently pressed his fingertips into the silky flesh, every movement slow and experimental. Every so often he would release a quiet groan, lips parted in a small o.

When he finally palmed both of his breasts, Ignis sighed and closed his eye.

“Oh, Prompto… They are so _soft_.”

Prompto took a very deep, very long breath.

“So… You like them..?”

“I love them, Prompto – they are _exquisite_ – oh _, I love them_.”

Ignis’s breath was coming to him in shorter pants as his excitement rose, and Prompto was nearly purring at the way his hands changed from cautious touches to firm massaging, subconsciously arching into his fingers.

“Prompto, love, may I kiss them?”

Ignis knew that he shouldn’t ask, that he shouldn’t be pushing Prompto, but he couldn’t help it. Finally having him like this, in his hands and making those beautiful little sighs, just wasn’t _enough_. He needed _more_ – Ignis needed to kiss and taste and squeeze him and, oh, he loved him so _much_ and it wasn’t _enough_.

But, then, Prompto gave him permission. With one little word, he had Ignis sitting up from the bed to nuzzle into one of his supple breasts. They were softer than Ignis had imagined they would be, like warm silk pressing against his flesh. Stuttered breathing passed over the delicate skin, soon followed by his lips, and Ignis was convinced that he was in heaven. As his fingertips grazed the silky-soft flesh of one of his areola, feeling the tiny glands bump under his fingers, Ignis immediately decided that this was well beyond worth the wait. The trust that Prompto was instilling in him, the understanding of just how much faith he was putting in him, had Ignis so absolutely overwhelmed that, for a moment, he could not take a breath.

Ignis’s erection was pressing against Prompto’s groin, but his attention was centered on the lips that kissed and mouthed at his breasts. A tear slipped free and rolled down his cheek. How long had he wanted this? How many nights did he spend lying in bed, chest aching, fantasizing about this exact moment? And it was so infinitely better than he imagined it would be. It felt as if his partner was worshiping him - devoting every ounce of himself to drinking in the sensation of Prompto's body's beneath his hands and mouth. When a curious tongue slipped out to provide the barest of contact to his nipple, something hot and electric raced down his spine in response, the skin almost unbearably sensitive from a lifetime of never being touched.

Prompto couldn’t have stopped himself from crying from the sheer relief he felt, even if he wanted to.

Ignis didn’t pull away. He didn’t apologize, or ask what troubled his lover.

Because he knew.

He did stop kissing his breasts in exchange for embracing Prompto, however. He crossed his legs, fitting their hips together, and circles his arms around his waist to hold him flush against his chest. Tender whispers of love and worship floated to his ear. Prompto's head fell forward to nuzzle Ignis's hair, arms wrapped around his shoulders and squeezing him tight.

For the first time in his life,

Prompto felt free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know, man.  
> I just want a fic where a trans guy is chill with his tits.  
> Like, just 'cos someone's trans doesn't mean we gotta make it out to be like we have to hate our bodies and stuff.  
> Anyways, this whole chapter is probably terrible but it's 2:30am and I'm sleepy and this is mostly just self indulgent bullshit.  
> [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/friendlysenpai), [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/A78050VD)


	3. Chapter 3

Prompto was… Fantastic.

Sure, there were plenty of superficial things that Ignis adored about him. His eyes, though he could no longer see them, were the most beautiful Ignis had ever seen. Prompto’s dedication to his training meant that he had a firm, tight body that would drive any sane man wild. His face was sharp and angular, but still soft in the cheeks. He was an absolute animal in bed, always looking to take initiative to pleasure Ignis endlessly through the night.

But, ultimately, that was not why Ignis loved him as much as he did.

Prompto was so infinitely compassionate towards every living being, no matter how insignificant. Without difficulty, he could find the silver lining in any unpleasant situation that presented itself. He appreciated everything anyone did for him, no favor or display of fondness considered small in his eyes. The energy Prompto exuded was intoxicating in a way that, even on Ignis’s worst days, just being around him was enough to lift Ignis’s spirits. The passion he had for his photography, his keen eye for creating the perfect picture, was what convinced Ignis that photography truly was an art form within itself. The way Prompto’s voice got higher when he spoke about chocobos is why he made a conscious effort to view them as more than oversized fowls.

He was a ray of golden sunshine in Ignis’s life. While others worshiped deities, it was his life’s mission to worship Prompto.

“Iggy! Iggy, look, they got chocobo _pillows_!” Prompto was jumping as they walked, squeezing Ignis’s hand swinging it back and forth in his excitement, “We can sleep on a cute cartoony chocobo face, oh my _god_!”

It was a dangerous love, Ignis understood that. It wasn’t healthy, not truly, to love someone as much as he loved his partner. It was just so completely out of his control; it always had been.

“Would you like one?” he asked, already withdrawing his hand to fish his wallet from his back pocket. Astrals knew he spoiled this man to an unholy extent, but hearing Prompto’s excited squeals and rapid thank-yous filled his chest with such a beautiful warmth that he couldn’t help it.

“Here, feel it! It’s so soft!” Something squishy nudged his arm, presumably the pillow.

Ignis smiled and ran his palm over the cool microfiber, “I am pleased to hear that it is to your liking, love, but we must be getting to our lodging before you get too carried away.”

They were in Altissia for the Moogle Chocobo Carnival, one thing that Prompto would daydream about during the dark years. Ignis could recall times when he would swear to return to Altissia for the event, once Noctis returned. At the time, it was exhausting; Ignis couldn’t bear to hear his partner’s unwavering hope for another dawn when he was so terribly close to succumbing to his own despair. Now, with the event in full swing for the first time since the world adjusted to being normal once more, Ignis understood that it was Prompto’s constant reassurances that kept him from tipping over the edge.

It only made sense that he would do this here.

Prompto babbled away the entire walk to the hotel, describing every detail he could spot so Ignis could paint himself a mental picture. It was amazing, how he could spot even the tiniest of details. When he still had his sight, Ignis could only imagine how many of those details he took for granted, looking over them without even acknowledging them. Altissia was such a marvelous city – he so deeply regretted not being able to see it, decked out with the carnival’s decorations.

“Damn, Iggy, this… This room is really nice,” Prompto breathed, “Is this okay?”

“I am the Lucian King’s right hand man, lil birb. I can assure you that this is well within my price range.”

Upon hearing word of their travels, Camelia offered a room at her rather luxurious mansion, but Ignis much preferred a staying in the same hotel they visited before the attack. There was an air of nostalgia about it that he could appreciate.

The hotel room looked different from what Prompto remembered, but that was to be expected. It was kind of for the best, really – the tile pattern and the wallpaper were fucking garish. The overall architecture and furnishings were exactly the same, though.

A small, sad smile tugged at his lips when his eyes fell to the bed.

“Are you alright, love?”

Oh, goddammit. Prompto wiped at his dripping eyes, sniffing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’m just thinking about everything – e-everything that’s happened. Since the last time we were here.”

Ignis came up behind him to circle his strong, lean arms around his waist. His rested his cheek against Prompto’s.

“It feels like a lifetime ago, does it not?” Ignis hummed, “I could not have possibly foreseen what lay ahead of us, back then.”

Prompto chuckled nervously and rubbed at the scruff on his chin, “You know, last time we were here, I was so nervous laying next to you that I couldn’t sleep?”

“Is that so? I cannot possibly imagine why…”

“Yeah, I, uh… The first night, I saw you standin’ at the end of the pier, lookin’ over the water, and I just… Iggy, you looked so beautiful. And you looked so at peace just watching the lights reflecting off the water…” Another stupid tear slipped down Prompto’s cheek, and his smile widened, “I was actually kinda mad, ya know? We’d known each other for so long, and it just kinda hit me – that I loved you.”

“And then I went off and got my face blown off,” Ignis quietly joked. That earned him a quick jab in the ribs.

“Yeah, then you got ugly.”

Ignis snorted delicately, nudging Prompto’s cheek with his nose, “ _Ugly_? You wound me.”

Prompto giggled and turned around in his embrace to face him. His fingertips rose to his jaw, ghosting along his sharp jaw.

“Anyways… I had no clue what to do. It felt kind wrong to share a bed with you, but I didn’t wanna make Noct trade ‘cos I wanted to be close to you.”

Ignis smiled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Ah, so you were forced to endure what I had been experiencing since high school.”

Prompto’s jaw went slack, “That long?!”

“I was carrying a torch for you from the moment we met, my sweet Prompto,” Ignis explained, “Why else would you think I was so insistent on ensuring you were properly fed?”

“Because you’re a super nice guy?”

Ignis’s laugh was heavenly.

“No, it was because I worried for your health. I couldn’t bear seeing you so thin and frail, not when I cared so deeply for you.”

Those were a rough couple of years, Prompto wouldn’t lie. Accepting his gender identity had helped him understand how his eating disorder had gotten so bad, but the road to recovery was still a very long and emotionally exhausting one. Had it not been for Ignis’s support in the kitchen, it would have been a whole lot worse.

That was part of why Prompto loved him so much – he was so unbelievably caring of those around him. Ignis was always frittering about to make sure his loved ones had everything they needed, never taking a bite of his own food until everyone else was digging in. The lengths Ignis would go to just to help a friend, even outside of the kitchen, was remarkable, it truly was. And those lengths would be taken with an unrivaled patience and endurance, ensuring that Ignis accomplished whatever task he had assigned to himself.

Whether he understood it or not, Ignis was their superhero.

“I love you so much, Iggy,” Prompto nearly whispered, suddenly overcome by just how _much_ he adored his partner, “I really do, you know. I love you more than anything.”

“Prompto…”

Ignis touched their foreheads together, a content sigh passing through his beautiful lips.

“Would you like to get married?”

Neither of them brought up the ring Ignis had presented the night he drunkenly stumbled into Prompto’s apartment. They both knew it had happened, but they both knew that getting engaged like that – because Ignis dropped the ball and it was out in the open – wasn’t what either of them wanted. Their special moment would have been tainted by the memory of Ignis’s breakdown, so they silently agreed to pretend it never happened.

That was six months ago.

A cautious smile spread across Prompto’s cheeks.

“I was planning on asking tomorrow night. I was going to take you on a ride in a gondola after dinner, but…” Ignis held him tighter and released a shaky breath, “I am afraid I cannot wait any longer, my love. Will you please marry me?”

His answer was on the tip of his tongue, but Prompto forced himself to show some sliver of restraint to ask, “Did… Did you buy that ring because of what I said? About breaking up?”

Ignis laughed again, this one breathy and trembling with his nerves. “Prompto, I purchased the ring _two_ _years_ ago,” he explained in a voice only barely louder than a whisper, “I have carried it on my person every single day, prepared to ask for your hand every morning. I only delayed asking because I was waiting for the perfect moment.”

Of course he was, damn control freak.

Before he knew it, Prompto was crying again. He threw his arms around Ignis’s neck and crushed their lips together. He kissed him hard, pouring every ounce of emotion and love he felt into it, and relished in the feeling of Ignis holding him just as tight.

“This means yes, I presume?”

Prompto started to laugh, and found it impossible to relax his lips enough to keep kissing.

“Yes! Duh, dude, yes! Yes! Right now!”

Prompto pulled back just enough to pat his pockets for his phone, feeling so light and bubbly that his head was already starting to spin. This was illegal, what he was feeling. There was no fuckin’ way people were allowed to be this happy.

Ignis’s good eye was glittering with mirth, his own mouth stretched into the widest smile Ignis had shown him since the sun first rose after ten years of night. “Right this instant? Prompto, it is the weekend and we aren’t in our country of residence.”

“Shh! Hang on! I got it covered!” Prompto felt himself positively _vibrating_ with unbridled excitement as he pulled up Noctis’s contact information. He hit the icon to start a video call, and waited through three rings.

“Prom?”

“Noct! Hey, buddy! We need a favor!”

Ignis laughed, a small, giddy sound, and hugged Prompto’s side into his body. On the phone, Noctis frowned his confusion and waved Gladiolus away when he tried to poke his head in the frame out of curiosity.

“Sure, I guess. What’s up?”

Prompto could hardly speak through his smile, and he felt his tears dripping from his chin, “Buddy, can you marry us? Over the phone?”

Noctis was the king of Lucis; if anyone could get the job done, it’d be him.

At first, Noctis didn’t seem to understand what was being asked. He just stared at the screen, brow furrowed, until the puzzle fitted into place. He _beamed_ – or, well, smiled as much as an emotionally stunted weirdo like him could manage – and actually gasped.

“You proposed!?”

There was shuffling in the background, and Gladiolus returned to the frame with a grin of his own.

“’Bout damn time, Iggy,” Gladiolus’s eyes shifted as he looked at Prompto’s face on the phone, “You said yes, right? He’s been carryin’ that damn ring around like a good luck charm.”

“It worked,” Ignis’s voice, so close to Prompto’s ear, was softened by the lump in his throat, “So I suppose it was a _spectacular_ good luck charm.”

“Noct, can you marry us? Please?”

The teary plea snapped Noctis out of his shock, and his smile softened. If Prompto didn’t know any better, he’d think his eyes were shimmering.

“Hell yeah! Uh, Gladio, you be the witness.”

“’Course, ‘course.”

Prompto giggled and snuggled closer into Ignis’s embrace.

“O-okay, so, uh, let’s do this, then?” Noctis asked.

The couple shared a glance.

“I, uh, kinda maybe jumped the gun,” Prompto admitted sheepishly, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted to do it like this. We can wait for a ceremony, if you want – I don’t mind!”

Ignis shook his head and claimed Prompto’s lips.

“I have waited much too long for this, my love. I could not possibly bear waiting any longer.”

“Alright, then,” Noctis cleared his throat, sniffling, “Prompto Argentum, wilt thou have this man, Ignis Scientia, to be thy husband, and wilt thou pledge thy soul to him, in all love and honor, in all duty and service, in all faith and tenderness, to respect him, and cherish him, before the eyes of the Astral gods of Eos?”

There was no point in struggling, anymore. Prompto let himself cry freely, feeling too much to process. Until then, he hadn’t even realized how badly he had wanted this –to be bound in a way that would keep them together even after departing to the afterlife.

“I, Prompto Argentum, before the eyes of the Astral gods of Eos, pledge myself to this man, Ignis Scientia.”

He turned his head away from the phone to seal their lips together. Why, oh, _why_ did they wait so long, after everything they had been through together?

“Ignis Scientia, wilt though have this man – hey! Quit makin’ out and listen to me!”

Their lips broke apart, but neither could bear to part further than that.

“Ignis Scientia, wilt though have this man, Prompto Argentum, to be thy husband, and wilt though pledge thy soul to him, in all love and honor, in all duty and service, in all faith and tenderness, to respect him, and cherish him, before the eyes of the Astral gods of Eos?”

“I, Ignis Scientia, before the eyes of the Astral gods of Eos, pledge myself to this man, Prompto Argentum.”

“Then, as the one hundred fourteenth king of Lucis, I-I, King Noctis the Chosen, bind thy souls before the Astrals of Eos so that thou may live as one, and be joined together once departing for the afterlife.”

Their lips came together once more, paying no attention to the way Noctis’s hitched breathing was cut off by Gladiolus ending the call. Prompto chucked his phone onto the back, desperate to wrap himself up in Ignis’s body. His partner was quick to pick up on his cues, and bent his knees to lift Prompto up by the thighs and wrap his legs around his waist.

He wasn’t sure when he had stopped crying, though he could feel the tear tracks drying over his cheeks.

Ignis, infinitely gentle even in the heat of passion, gently set Prompto onto the bed, crawling on top of him to settle over his thighs. Prompto met him halfway when he leaned down in search of his lips, feeling so overwhelmed but so unimaginably happy. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he could have sworn that something had changed – that the air between them had become thicker, full of something warm and soothing that wrapped around them like a blanket.

* * *

 

Later, when they were both sated and basking in their shared afterglow, Ignis could hardly believe how his life could have been so differently, had it not been for Prompto stumbling across Lady Lunafreya’s dog one day.

He traced the tip of his finger around the fringe of Prompto’s soft nipple, feeling it tighten in the cool air. He listened to Prompto’s steady heartbeat; his hand rose and fell with every gentle breath he took. The ache in his bottom had long since ebbed, replaced by an excited thrumming in every single one of his nerves.

Ignis had been happy before, but this… This was a whole other plane of emotion that he could not so much as begin to describe.

He cupped his palm around one of his breasts to press the side of it to his lips, kissing the pale, supple flesh as if to imprint his love into the skin, there.

“Oh, Prompto…”

When they returned home, Ignis would be sure to cook a small feast for Pryna, a token of his never-ending gratitude for introducing this angel to his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I wasn't even gonna write any more, and most of this was written between 3-5am (after 12 hours of writing TI7 coverage, ugh) while the rest was written between 1-3, but people asked about the ring, so... Also, I kinda wanted a chapter that didn't put such an emphasis on Prom's gender identity.  
> I'm 100% done with this lol. This whole thing got out of control. It was just supposed to be some one shot of Prompto being an insufferable brat and now we're three chapters in and ughhhhh so much fluff.  
> Also I kinda considered writing a fic from their teen years as Prompto struggles with his gender identity and the ED that stemmed from it, because it'd be nice and cathartic, but I already established that Prompto and Iggy got together after Noctis disappeared and, honestly, setting them up would be half the fun.  
> Am I allowed to retcon my own work? lmao  
> I think I'm just sad that all of my fics are finished. Growing Up, Akatsuki eSports, It Hurts, they're all done now ; - ;  
> I should probably go make some coffee and get real work done. I have a visual novel that needs to be written.  
>  [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/friendlysenpai), [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/A78050VD)


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